Incest/Taboo Mother’s New Governess

It began as one of those rainy Devon days where one only wished to remain in bed. While the rest of the house snored and stirred, only the servants were up and about ...well only the servants and young Harry Cory. He'd been up since half past seven and was already dressed, hoping the rain would subside long enough for him to go out and take a few swipes with the butterfly net or possibly do a bit of shooting with the dogs. It was not to be, however.

The rain poured down with stiff British determination that made bones ache just to look at it and think thoughts of hot meals in bed or more time under the covers. Mummy Nature could be a cruel disappointing bitch when she saw fit to be so. She could also be a bit grey and damp.

Harry lived with his Mummy Edwina his older sister Bethany, or "Bess", and his Grand Mah-mah, Rebecca, in a rather comfortable house. It was a lovely old home and it was said that for such a nice abode; Edwina must have been somewhat of a levitation artist because the woman had "no visible means of support" to justify where they lived. Truth be told, the house and Mummy's stipend of income was the result of an "agreement" of sorts.

The agreement had been with Sir William Henry Sedgewick. He was the same Sir William Sedgewick of Cornwall fame by whom Edwina had once been employed; serving as a governess in Sedgewick Manor to the family children following a brief career on the stage as an actress. Mr Sedgewick's roving eye eventually settled on Edwina and she soon found herself pregnant with Bess. Edwina was let go from the house but despite the fact that she was no longer employed as a governess; she was retained as Mr Sedgewick's mistress. Her life could not have become more comfortable as a result.

Sir William set her up in the house in Devon, far away from Cornwall with a generous annual stipend. Money was no object to the lecherous old robber baron. Within less than a year of the birth of Bethany, Harry arrived on the scene. Apparently William had gone for another drink from Edwina's fountain of youth and the resulting hangover was Harry.

As a youngster, Harry knew his father; seeing Sir William often enough at birthdays and holidays but as he grew older, he saw daddy far less and less. This was due in part because the old philanderer was quite busy; both expanding his vast holdings of coal and tin, and expanding his vast number of illegitimate children through his many mistresses, (who more often than not had been employees at Sedgewick Manor).

Edwina was comfortable. She had family nearby, she had money, and a house for as long as she lived. She'd brought her mother, an old German jewess to the home a few years before so as to have her mother near her in her autumn years.

Despite being a mistress she'd quite a number of social connections, (and her reputation had not suffered in the least from the scandal of two children born out of wedlock). It was simply amazing what a bit of money scattered around like hay in a barn could do to get people to hold their tongues. Most of all; the money bought the silence of Edwina, (whose stipend looked like a king's ransom even among some well-to-do circles)!

Yes, Edwina had it all. Well; if one were to be more precise -she had everything except a man. There layeth the rub, (quite literally so).

This absence of male companionship, shall we say; became increasingly problematic over time for the poor woman. It tormented her with a longing ache and a certain "emptiness", that was spiritual, physical, and geometrical. A vexing tension whittled away at her nerves and many was the times the eighteen-year-old Harry heard the distressed whisperings and whimpers coming from mummy's bedroom.

On one occasion as he passed by mummy's boudoir on the way to the loo the noises coming from inside were considerable indeed. The door was slightly ajar and he crooked his head slightly so as to peer with one eye inside the dim room. He was met with a cold shock.

There was mummy, lying atop her bed; a candle on the dresser next her being the only light in the room. Edwina was naked except for her stockings; her hands down at her sex, rubbing and clawing frantically at her dark thatch-work as she heaved hips up against her own busy fingers. Her breathing was heavy and distressed; almost asthmatic as she hoarsely whispered,

"Oh yes...YES RIGHT THERE! You know how I like it! It is sooo...bad!"

Harry reasoned that she must be asleep; as he saw that both her eyes were screwed tightly shut. They remained closed as she brought her fingers up to her mouth; sucking them clean as if they'd been sweeties from the fair! One hand returned to her sex whilst the other tweaked upon her bubbies; first one, then the other, until both became hard as iron rivets.

Harry thought it best to scurry off to the loo quietly and not wake her. When he returned, he found her door closed. He tip-toed silently past the door but as he did, he heard more of mummy's tortured whimpers and moans. She was obviously having a fitful night's sleep!

When he returned to his bed, he found he'd another problem more urgent than any trip to the loo. His tadger was stiff as a fine for public intoxication and contributing to the delinquency of a farm animal on a Sunday. He did the foul thing that he always did when troubles of this sort arose. He knew it to be sinful and wrong but he needed to go to sleep and well; he was supremely bothered by the vision of his mother thrashing about on her bed. In the end he took the problem "well in hand" just as always, but all the randy thoughts he'd used in the past paled in comparison to the mental tintype photos stuck in his head of dear Mummy; pawing at her sex in her sleep. He did the shameful act in her honor and fell into a most blissful slumber; careful to keep to the other side of the mattress until things dried!

There were more "incidents" over the next few weeks. This was partially due to Edwina being rather adept at noticing...things. For example; Edwina noticed Harry had grown quite tall, (strapping and robust for a lad his age). She'd noticed his cheekbones; high and handsome like those of his blade of a father. She's noticed his hair, his smell, and his clear skin. She'd also noticed he was having more and more of those troubling erections; something that she noticed with interest most keen.

She seemed to have the most awful luck at accidently walking into his room when he was changing. She also the bloody longest time putting away whatever it was that happened to be in her hands whenever she came in. Harry wondered why she simply didn't have the maid put things away later. Mummy was being so terribly odd and intrusive in his honest opinion, (but he kept such sentiments to himself).

In one week she'd managed to barge in on his bath with him in it no less than four times "by accident," (much to his shock and embarrassment). Although she made plausible excuses to her son, she did so with quite a bit of leering and staring down at things in the soapy depths of the tub. She'd even caught a glimpse of his pego on two occasions and imprinted the images into her mind as if they were stamped into wet clay. Its seems she then retrieved those images late at night in her bedroom, (resulting in more thrashing of her mattress against the bedsprings).

It is important to note that by now Harry didn't notice any of these disturbing noises made by his tormented mummy in her bedchamber; he was far too busy. His hobbies you see; may have involved butterflies, hunting, and stamp collecting by day, but at night he had a hobby that was altogether separate, (once the lights went out). It seems dear readers, he couldn't hear Mummy's vigorous WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! as he was engaged in WHUMP! WHUMP! WHUMP! s of his own creation.

After one bathing "accident" Edwina was so apologetic and embarrassed that she stayed, (and despite his protests, she scrubbed his back and tummy-tum-tum with the brush and soap). She even went so far as to hold a towel for him; helping him to step from the tub at his bath's conclusion. She dried him off; taking an inordinate amount of time to wander the towel here, there, and everywhere. By the time she was done with the towel; he was as dry as bill before Parliament requesting that sealing wax for all governmental correspondence come from only authorized British suppliers, (and then only from an approved governmental list that had been ratified by a majority of two thirds in both houses)!

Yes... she got quite an eyeful that evening dear readers; she did indeed! She subsequently told him to be a good boy and scamper off to bed as she wished to use the tub herself; not wishing to waste any water. Good frugal woman, that Edwina!

Once she'd heard him step down the hall and subsequently caught the sound of his bedroom door shutting, she called the upstairs maid Meredith; asking for fresh towels. She added that she was not to be disturbed. She did however keep the towel that she'd dried Harry with; taking a good strong whiff of it when Meredith had left.

It would appear that she was greatly affected by Harry's essence; much in the same way as a tabby cat with a little too much catnip. She let the manly little notes of "Harry scent," waft up both pipes of her nostrils; allowing them to register upon her brain. Between what she'd both seen and whiffed that evening; the effect upon her senses was quite cumulative!

Once the towels came, she shut the door and locked it from the inside. She then stepped out from her robe and into the water. It was still warm enough for a bath and what's more...it had the musk of a man lingering in the water and steam.

Like a shark following blood she could smell it; she could smell HIM! It was so horribly wrong what she wished to do, but her body and limbs ached for a bit of release and ...he was so ...well ...THERE. He was so ... beautiful! He was so rather on the... "big side" of things and in all the correct places, wasn't he!

She frigged herself rotten in the water; giving her bubbies and cunny a good hard bothering. At the height of her excitement she brought her hand down from her bee stung teats; poking a naughty little finger into her wicked little bum-hole. Oh she was being soooo wretched tonight; not that she cared! She opened her eyes as her inner wave began to crest and it was then and there she saw something; amidst the steam, the soapy water, and his smell. She caught it out of the corner of her eye and turned her head to its presence.

It floated on the water like a little jelly fish; a bubble above the surface and a trailing snotty tail descending down below. Was it?..OH DEAR IT WAS! He had been doing it here in the tub all this time? No bloody wonder he was always so embarrassed when her head would appear in the doorway!

It drifted to one of her breasts. She scooped the little bit of snotty custard from her bosom; holding it up to the light. This was it; his seed! It was the seed of the young man whom she had borne eighteen winters prior and now he was grown. Oh how her depraved wicked mind turned; just like the lecherous gears on a clock in a Parisian bordello!

She held the little white blob to her nose and sniffed it; detecting a brininess within the bit of protein slime. He smelled like his father... so handsome and powerful. She'd certainly be guilty of all the sins on the calendar for what she would do next.

Yes she was noticing Harry's development and she also noticed she was still a young woman... but he was her son ...her child. She'd borne him! Then again, William hadn't been by in months, (and then it was only for a few hours). She was thirty-seven... she had needs... and Harry was right bloody there!

She took a deep breath, thought for a moment, and popped the little bit of salted "bollock chowder" into her mouth; letting it dance on her tongue like a little pale oyster before swallowing. He tasted like his father too -- salty but not too much so. OH DEAR!

It was then that her last bit of reserve melted like snow on warm bricks. She frigged her cunny and arsehole silly, forcing herself into hard hedonistic crescendo. It was all so wonderfully wrong, but right and wrong no longer mattered; having melted away like candle wax and leaving only her carnal desire. She screamed into a wet wash-rag clenched in her teeth, (so as to muffle her cries of absolute self-abusing joy). She let simply let go and allowed it to all happen, AND HAPPEN IT MOST CERTAINLY DID DEAR READERS!

Afterwards she was calm and tranquil; lying in the bottom of the bath all steam and serenity. The explosion in her body following her torrid self-abuse had given her not only a bit of joyful release, but also a moment of clarity. She decided right then and there in the tub; the time for waiting had ceased!

She'd satisfied several of her bodily itches and needs with certain women of the household staff (as she was a woman of "dual tastes"), but now her appetite for male companionship of the most physical kind could not be ignored! She HAD to act, but she would need help. She tortured her pretty noggin over it in the steaming water.

She rolled the dilemma again and again in her head. How could she make it happen? She didn't have the wherewithal and the courage to act upon these vile appetites alone. She needed a person of certain experience and equally base disposition to address this matter. Who would be able to...?

Her attention was caught momentarily by the DRIP DRIP DRIP of the wet wash-rag hanging loosely over the edge of the bath. Hanging loosely. Drip... drip... drip. Loosely? Drip...drip. LOOSELY. ...LUCY...HELLO WAIT!

...and it was then she knew precisely whom to speak to about this. Tomorrow the post would go out. How convenient!

It was a week and a half after the incident in the tub that we now find our hero Harry; sitting in the parlor, watching the rain as we mentioned earlier in the story. He had his butterfly collection (as well as his bug collection), out; figuring if he couldn't get out and swipe something from the bushes with his butterfly net or blast something to furry bits with his gun, then he might at least get on with labeling a few specimens. He had his textbooks with their lovely colored pages all out and open upon the floor; his pins for sticking the guts of creepy crawlies at the ready.

Yes, it may seem in stark contrast to what was described earlier, but let us just say; this would possibly be the last vestige of domestic tranquility we will see our hero taking part in, (so I thought I should mention it). The stage was set. It was a rainy day, he was inside, and his Mummy had brought some wickedly meticulous planning to fruition, (as you soon shall read)!

A few days prior it seems, a guest had arrived at the house; that being his Aunt Lucinda, or "Auntie Lucy." She was a year older than Edwina and she brought with her Harry's cousin Mabel, her daughter; who was nineteen and the same age as Harry's older sister, Bethany. Like Mummy, Auntie Lucy had no husband.

Now, Bess and Mabel seemed to get along famously from the very start; immediately moving to the sitting room and discussing all manner of things that girls their age are want to do, (and that Harry found completely tiresome and boring to a young man of his age). It was not long before he welcomed their absence. He found the conversations of women, tedious at times and he often wondered if they thought at all or if they simply prattled on all day about shoes, and dresses and other nonsense that he simply couldn't make any sense of.

He did not however escape female conversation completely, (oh no, not all)! Edwina took him by the arm; escorting him along with her sister, Lucinda, to the parlor. There she sat him down and Harry immediately felt the gaze of his aunt upon him as his mother poured tea for her.

Auntie Lucy wasn't exactly the unfriendly sort, but she was tall and serious, (even when smiling). She had a pleasant enough face, but she had bit of an aura about her that put Harry a bit on edge. She could also be blunt; very judgmental and critical she was.

He'd seen it before; stern schoolmasters with rulers ready to rap him on the knuckles had given him that very same look. Once or twice a particularly judgmental minster had worn the same expression as he lectured Harry sternly on one perceived evil or another. No, Harry was a bit wary of his aunt, (which is why he felt a cold chill up his spine when his mother sat him down and explained in detail, the reason for his Auntie Lucy's visit).

"A GOVERNESS!" he blurted out, completely aghast and shocked, "OH REALLY MUMMY,are you sure?"

"Oh far more than sure," said Edwina, "in fact it's FINAL. I paid your Auntie Lucy a visit last week and convinced her that this summer it would be a grand idea for her to live with us; tutoring you and your sister along with Mabel before you set-off out into the world. It will give you some lovely polish."

"But Mummy," Harry protested, "I don't think I need any polish!"

"HARRY!" came the first icy rebuke from his Aunt Lucy, "Your mother, who is still the lady of this house ...has in fact spoken. This is not up for discussion!"

Harry looked down and saw that she tapped a rattan cane in her hand. Her eyes locked on him like some serpent that would gobble him up in one bite if he so much as simply uttered one more word. It was a beastly look upon her face; one that told him he was out of his league. Prudence being stronger than his sense of howling protest; he simply stared defeated at the tips of his shoes uttering,

"Yes,"

A meeker "yes" had never escaped his lips until then. He'd no idea what he'd just said yes to. It's quite possible however, that had he'd known, he would have said "yes," all the same but with much more enthusiasm and vigor!

Lucinda started the children off with some discussions of mathematics and the sciences the following day. She couldn't have been more pleased with what she saw. All three students proved quite adept with their level of knowledge; (Auntie Lucy soon deciding on the second day, she should immediately move to discussions of Natural History and the Greek Classics).

She set about having Harry and the girls reading passages from of all things, Oedipus Rex. Harry found it all interesting, yet he wondered still to himself; why all the fuss? Daddy would pull strings surely enough to get him into a proper College and he had achieved high marks in school after all. Was all this really necessary? Oh well, he guessed...Mummy must have just been making sure and had simply not wished for his brains to go to mush sitting on his laurels.

He had noticed something rather odd, however. It happened on the first two days of lessons and then it occurred again on the third day. It seemed his Auntie Lucy had assembled several books for discussion and reading in the drawing room as part of the curriculum. She and her pupils worked the lessons through a good part of the mornings. After lunch however; his Auntie Lucy (along with Mummy and Grand Mah- mah), took the girls out for walks; upon which he was conspicuously left out of the company.

On each occasion, he was merely left alone in the house (but with the dogs to entertain him as he saw fit). The ladies would return form these excursions; quite winded and out of breath, but each of them seeming highly energized and talkative all the same. His mummy and his grandmother in particular were chatty and merry, (an unusual occurrence for his normally dour grandmah-mah). They were to a word, downright affectionate. Very odd, he observed, but then again; who cared really, so long as there were happy ladies about the house and he had free time to himself.

On the third day's lesson he'd also noticed that besides reading again from ole' "Oedipussy Rexxy," his Auntie had some other literature stacked next to the reading chairs. They'd come from his mother's sitting room and he'd never really paid them much attention. It was rare that he ever even went into that room at all, for that matter.

As his sister read a passage from the book in her lap, and Harry and Mabel jotted notes. It seems at some point Bess's foot accidentally kicked the stack of tomes; sending the leaning tower of literature promptly to the floor. Harry (gentleman that he was), scampered after them in order to return them to an orderly stacking. When he did so however, he was shocked as he caught sight of the brilliantly colored leaves within one of the open volumes.

There before Harry on the pages were several lurid images of men and women, naked as the day of their birth, frolicking and reveling in the most outlandish of lewd and lascivious positions. He saw twosomes, threesomes, foursomes - and bloody-well moresomes!

He saw the nude human form twisted and re-twisted in so many ways, as to defy his very comprehension. His pego immediately set about twitching beneath his trousers in a most uncontrolled manner. Was he seeing what he was seeing?

"It is the Kama Sutra Harry," his Auntie Lucy explained upon seeing his expression, "it's an ancient religious text of supreme historical value. We shall be discussing it in the days ahead, yes?"

"Yes," Harry said going crimson in the face, "quite so; The Kama Sutra."

He set the books back into the stack and sat down, retrieving his pencil. A problem now vexed him. His randy little pego would simply not go down.

The problem did not escape notice by his auntie, nor by the girls (who said nothing), His aunt's normally serious face did however, change slightly. It wasn't a smile exactly; more a gleam of keen interest across her features, (like a hawk spying a furry something scuttling about a grassy hill below it). Harry saw none of it; simply bowing his head over his paper and taking notes while trying to make it bloody well go down!

That night he did the foul thing again. He also ended up sleeping to one side of the bed. At midnight, he roused himself in need of a tinkle and trotted down the hall to the loo. Passing by Mummy's door, he heard great commotion there-in as he'd noticed so often before. Mummy must be having a bad time again sleeping, poor thing!

He tiptoed by her door but just two paces past, he thought he heard another woman's voice inside; that of his cousin Mabel. No, he thought...she is sleeping down the hall in Auntie Lucy's bed. Don't be a fool Harry...must be a mistake.

He then passed by his Auntie's room. Similar commotion came from inside beyond the door. 'Lucy must be a tempestuous sleeper as well,' he reasoned.

Just beyond the door, he thought he'd heard his sister's giggle. No, a trick of the head. It couldn't be; her room was well down the hall.

He made his way to the loo and did his business before returning to his bed, (staying clear of that awful sticky spot). He slept. He began to dream.

In his dream world he used the restorative power of his nightly adventures to recharge his mind; fighting pirates, finding buried treasure, and discovering rare butterflies. His dreams tonight however, were filled with the strangest of images. A room inside the house had been festooned with pillows and cushions. Music of a strange oriental variety played by an unseen party of musicians in the alcove.

In one corner stood the upstairs maid, Meredith. She'd prepared a hookah pipe and was standing naked to the waist in a set of harem pantaloons; puffing on it and making perfect "O"s of smoke whilst she waited for Harry. He strode into the room and she offered the mouthpiece to him.

He took a deep cleansing drag while she cupped and fondled her own large and lovely goblet-sized breasts before him. He set the pipe aside and she took him by the hand to the room's center. She dropped her pantaloons and got on all fours; naked and fleshy as a freshly plucked goose. It was then his Auntie Lucy appeared at his side; not stern or dour but beaming with encouragement.

"Take her!" she urged him with a smile and a prod to his ribs.

She opened her own oriental robes of crimson and green and dropped them to the floor, saying again to her nephew, "take her! She is here for your pleasure, now mount-up my sweet!"

Harry suddenly found himself naked; as if his garments evaporated in the blink of an eye. He walked up to the upturned bum of Meredith and skewered her on his pego with masterful bravado. The maid shrieked in a yelp of pleasure and excitement. Grasping her hips with hands clenching soft bum-flesh, he thrust hard up into her and commenced her "taking," as Auntie Lucy nodded with approval.

Harry awoke lying on his tummy. His dream had tormented his mind and churned his loins to a supreme state of agitation. Remembering his dream, he thought that if it was good to be the King, it was bloody well marvelous to be the Sultan! He did the wicked deed again, (careful to keep things on the other side of the bed). He slept.

In the night it began to rain. It was a heavy pouring rain; hanging like a blanket over anything and everything in the Devon blackness. It was still raining quite hard in the morning when Harry was sticking pins in his little multi legged friends; fresh from the killing jars. He'd just labeled and impaled a particularly beautiful blue green moth (with all the skill of a Romanian Prince thwarting a Turkish invasion), when he heard a voice behind him,

"Good morning Harry!"

It was Auntie Lucy. He set his bug collection down and looked at the clock. She probably was set to get cracking early.

"Oh don't worry Harry," Auntie Lucinda reassured him as she read his thoughts, "we won't be putting noses in books today."

He sighed a bit from relief; the act forcing a happy chuckle from her. She then put a hand to the side of his head and brushed his hair with it. It was such a light lacy touch that her fingers had; soothing even, he noticed.

"I do think that there will be some lessons however, just not what you were expecting. First let's get up these books and put away all these lovely butterflies!"

In no time at all, books and butterflies found their way upon the shelf with very little effort. Cleanup was always easy with eager hands, (and Lucy's were most eager indeed). Harry's auntie then took him by the hand, leading him past Drusilla, the black Jamaican downstairs maid.

"Drusilla," Auntie Lucy said, "Harry is to take a bath this morning. See that he's not disturbed until he is done. He's getting a bit of a chill I think from this absolutely vile weather."

The Jamaican woman nodded her head but she thought he looked fine. His aunt had a rather odd look in her eyes but the young man was fine. She shrugged shoulders and putting it out of her head, set about her work; grateful that she wouldn't be picking up any of his bugs 'n messes this morning.

Harry began to protest that he felt perfectly fine as I mentioned before, but Auntie put a finger to his lips. For an instant her stern visage returned. It was the briefest flashes of correction, but it was sufficient to make him clam up and do as was told. At the top of the stairs his auntie explained to him patiently with an arm about his shoulder,

"Today's lesson is about health, relaxation, and hygienic prevention. You do know what I speak of, yes?" His answer was cut short as she continued,

"I think with this weather one cannot be too careful. Wouldn't you agree?"

She stopped at Edwina's bedroom door and knocked. She listened. Harry answered her question.

"Of course Auntie, but why are we not heading down to the loo in the hall? See here, I think I can bathe mysel..." He was again shushed with a finger to his lips but this time the woman's face was not stern, only smiling. A voice from inside said,

"Do come in."

It was mummy and her voice came from inside her master bath. Apparently she was preparing things for him. In a way, she most certainly had.

Upon entering the room with Harry, Aunt Lucinda bid him to remove bathrobe and pajamas. He protested,

"But I..."

"Not to worry," Auntie Lucy corrected him," undressing in front of a Governess is like undressing in front of a doctor or a tailor fitting you for a new suit; there's simply nothing I haven't seen." Still Harry protested with, "But I..." however, a stern resolute voice shot from the next room,

"HENRY CORY! DO AS YOUR GOVERNESS TELLS YOU!"

It was mummy sounding quite cross, (she'd called him Henry too and not Harry); bloody serious this was! Odd thing though, had he heard her sloshing about in the tub? No, that couldn't be; he was the one who should be taking the bath, correct? He stepped out of his things as Auntie gathered them up in her arms.

He was now naked as his day of arrival upon this earth. He was a bit perplexed as well by what was occurring, he decided to step off smartly alongside Auntie and get this silly lesson in hygienics (or whatever it bloody-well was), out of the way in the hopes he could stick a few more pins in his bug collection.

Anyhow, he stepped through the doorway to the bath and his mouth immediately fell open. In the bath sat mummy it was clear she wasn't preparing the water for him. She was most decidedly enjoying the tub's contents and she beckoned for him to join her.

Harry was struck by a bolt of shock and uncertainty as to what this was all about. He looked first to Mummy and then to Auntie Lucy, not understanding what he should do next exactly. Mummy continued patiently to beckon with her finger as Auntie nodded saying softly and calmly,

"Go on Harry, it's alright. It's time."

Harry tossed a leg over the rim of the clawfoot slipper tub and stepped in. The bath was large; larger than normal, but then again it had to be. It had all the markings or Harry's father, (so to speak).

It seems when Mummy was first given the house, Sir William (or bathing Billy as he was called), presented her the home with a modification. It seems bathing Billy loved the bath. He spent hours in his tub at Sedgewick Manor and he did everything in the bath. He shaved, he read the paper, he dictated correspondence, he read books, he ate meals, played chess by mail, he took his brandy; all in the bath. Once in a great while he fell asleep there too!

Sir William thought the modern clawfoot bath epitomized Western Civilization in gleaming self-indulgence and mastery over nature; seeing it as proof that the Empire had a right to its supremacy. His fascination with the bath combined with his wealth, meant that he saw fit to spare no expense in furnishing his house with the latest in bath accommodations and nothing was too opulent for him. In fact, he went as far as to have all the main bedrooms and guestrooms in his mansion outfitted with oversized clawfoot tubs.

Actually, when I say, "oversized," I might be putting it somewhat mildly. It was somewhat unconfirmed but back then there were whispers at the time eluding to the fact that the large tubs with their garish gold trim could hold Billy, two bottles of champagne, three ladies of normal proportions (four providing corsets were tight enough), and a floating box of cigars!

Yes, he did everything in his bath...and everyone apparently! That was how Edwina became great with child in the first place. It was also how she became a great aficionado of the bath and the act of bathing.

The experience left her you might say, "imprinted" as it were. She often wasted hours in her own tub, thinking of Sir William and what might have been; all while letting her hands wander down beneath the surface of the soapy water and bubbles for a little "self-dredging" of her little pink harbor!

The only difference was now it appeared Edwina would be getting some new and youthful "excavation equipment" to dig out her pink channel in the soapy depths. As she tilted her head and looked at her son's nudity, she might even be getting the ole' canal widened a bit even; judging by the look of things. Oh how exciting it was to her; she simply loved civil engineering projects, (and the arrival of the heavier equipment on the project site was most certainly welcomed). She didn't regret her decision in the least (regarding change outs for the job's manning)!

Harry now stood in the steamy warmth halfway to his knees. As bathtubs went, it was most-certainly spacious; much bigger than the one in the hallway loo. He felt small, vulnerable even.

He had remembered as a very young lad bathing in this enormous monstrosity, (and he thought rather on the big side of things then). Standing there now; he noticed that it hadn't changed at all in that respect, for it was simply enormous. He guessed it large enough for him and at least five more people as he crouched to sit down, (only to be corrected by his Auntie),

"Remain standing Harry," Lucinda said with an air of cold authority that reminded him a bit of an angry policeman, "and place your hands on top of your head with your fingers interlaced!"

"Really," he said, "I don't see how it could..."

He was interrupted by a stinging CRACK to his bumcheeks. There was the crisp slice followed by searing heat. At last the pain rose up forcing him to drop open his mouth and howl an agonized cry of YEEOOOOOOOOOWWWW!

Stunned and surprised; he wondered just what on earth had just struck him. A second later he had his answer. Auntie Lucy held up before his nose the rattan cane she'd brought with her three days earlier.

A flash of something dark and cruel flashed across Auntie Lucy's face for a moment before her whole expression changed to something tranquil (almost kind). It was in stark contrast to the hornet sting she'd just laid across his arse. He could tell one thing for certain; she was deadly serious and he did as told, interlacing his fingers over his thick black head of hair while his Mummy crouched on all fours down in the water, looking at him with a pleasant smile over her shoulders.

"Now then," said Auntie Lucy, "I am going to ask you some very specific questions as part of this lesson." Her words were most patient; spoken in a voice that dripped honey as she gave him that same calm expression; all love and tranquility.

"In order for your relaxation to be complete," she continued, "and your cleansing to be thorough, you must be absolutely truthful. I will not stand for lying little boys."

"No Ma'am," he answered "no lies at all!"

"Good," she said placing the cane against his bare bum so that he could feel its intimidating knobby touch, "my first question is most simple. ... Did you not get up a few weeks past in the middle of the night and go to the loo?"

"I did Auntie," he answered after pausing to think of what she'd said.

"And did you not," she continued, "walk past your mummy's room and see her door ajar?"

"Yes ...on one night I did,"

"Good, and Harry what did you see?" she asked in a whisper, her eyes coming together in a squint.

"I saw Mummy sleeping."

"Oh, you saw her sleeping?" she said with a condescending tone of barely concealed derision, "And was she sleeping soundly?"

"No," he answered, "she was moaning and talking in her sleep,"

"And was Mummy clothed?" she asked. He became uneasy. How much did she already know?

"N-n-no," he stammered, "she was naked accept for her stockings?"

"I see," Lucy said, "and did she do anything else? Did she do THIS?"

Lucinda nodded with her head to her sister. Edwina demonstrated by sinking a hand down under her belly to rub and vex her furry pink sex; not three feet away with her arse high off the water. She moaned and screwed eyes shut in a ludicrous masturbatory pantomime; running her tongue across her lips gasping,

"Oooohhh yes...just like that! Ooh, just like that please!"

She said all that, and other things to that affectation. Harry immediately understood. He nodded his head, far too bashful to speak.

"And," continued Auntie Lucy; never raising her voice but speaking with the same patient tone that became more ominous and accusatory with each word,

"you watched her didn't you? You watched her, you naughty wicked little boy. You went to the loo certainly...oh and then you returned to your room. There in your bed you sinned. You sinned thinking of your mother, rubbing and abusing yourself like a wretched animal! You did a foul deed to yourself right there in your bed, YES?"

By the time she was finished speaking she sounded like an old judge raging at a convict in the dock; about to deliver the harshest of penalties, but she never raised her voice. She remained calm, letting intimidation and Harry's own uneasiness do the rest.

"NO!" gasped Harry alarmed by how the questions had turned, "NO, I WENT TO SLEEP!"

"Went to sleep?" asked Auntie Lucy with one eyebrow cocked as she stepped back for a moment to hamper of dirty clothes, "then how do you explain ...THIS?"

She reached into the laundry items and held aloft his sheets like a semen encrusted, 'Exhibit A' for all to see. Yellow protein-splotch circles betrayed his spending releases over the course of several evenings. Auntie Lucy continued to hold up several articles of bed clothing and night shirts; each soiled with dried foul crust of wasted seed. There was only one man in this house who could have wasted it too.

Harry stared at the water, not able to look up and feeling horrid, horrid shame. His mummy felt a wicked twinge of pride that those balls could spend so prolifically and her finger stroked herself lightly in genuine excitement now. Lucy felt the swelling satisfaction of having caught her quarry in a well set snare as she returned to the edge of the tub; nothing ever escaped her, (certainly not a lying nephew).

She placed the cane back against his bum and with her free hand, she seized his penis in a vice-like grip. For the briefest of instances, she sucked in her breath in disbelief, (shocked at the mass of the coursing male organ suspended in her fist). Curiously she noted, it was rising already. Her look of surprise evaporated quickly however; without Harry even having noticed. She contemplated the matter as she held him like a gardening tool.

It seems the sting on his arse had triggered something in the very depths of his balls. Lucy guessed that this (combined with his fear and the very sight of his mother's self-abuse), had agitated him to a certain degree of 'manly readiness' that she found most agreeable. Oh yes she decided; he was a most worthy subject!

Harry was simply terrified his aunt would rip his tadger out by the roots the way she squeezed him. He shot a desperate glance to Mummy, who had by now stopped touching upon herself and dropped her bum back to the water; coolly watching him with the slightest smile on her sweet lips. Finally, she spoke and provided him with an explanation.

"Oh Harry," Edwina said with pouty lips and moon sized eyes, "I wasn't sleeping darling. I was awake and dealing with a need; a vile wicked need of mine! You understand, yes? I mean, we all have our needs...you DO understand me, Harry?"

He nodded a speechless and shameful 'yes' to her rationalizations, but then Aunt Lucy interrupted the moment of forgiveness with,

"That still does not diminish the fact that you watched you mother and you lusted for her!" Her voice was now raging and judgmental.

"NO!" he replied.

"Liar!" his aunt spat back, "You lie like all naughty little fellows who see their mummies and wish to do wickedry with them. They then sneak off to a dark little corner someplace and commit beastly acts upon themselves. How did you do it boy, like this?"​